


Bruises

by Mindell, XanLee



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Identity Reveal, Misunderstandings, Protective Alya Césaire, Reveal, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-15 02:24:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13603578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mindell/pseuds/Mindell, https://archiveofourown.org/users/XanLee/pseuds/XanLee
Summary: Alya begins to have some serious questions about Marinette. Her friend has too many bruises on her arms and far too few plausible explanations for the young blogger to not start to have suspicions.Yes, Alya is sure, Marinette has a secret.And it is out of the question that she sit back and do nothing.***Original story : MindellTranslated from french by XanLee.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Ecchymoses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823474) by [Mindell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mindell/pseuds/Mindell). 



> Hi :) !
> 
> This story was translated from french by XanLee. Thank you so much for your amazing work !  
> If you liked this story, please do not forget to thank XanLee for the translation ! :D 
> 
> ***
> 
> Original story : Mindell, "Ecchymoses"  
> Available in french here : http://archiveofourown.org/works/11823474/chapters/26680689

“Marinette, you have a bruise on your arm,” Alya suddenly points out to her best friend. “Did you bump into something?”

Sitting next to her, Marinette looks at her right forearm with surprise. Spanning her milky skin is nasty violet-blue mark, almost purple. Her eyes immediately widen with shock, as her cheeks delicately flush.

“Ah, uhh, yeah,” she stutters. “I… I fell in my bathroom this morning. On a puddle of water. I got hurt trying to catch myself… I am so clumsy!” she concludes with a shrug a bit too tense to be natural.

“Again?” Alya stresses with an eyebrow raised in suspicion. “Last week you fell down the stairs. And the time before that, you tripped on the rug in your room… it’s beginning to be a lot of falls, don’t you think?” she finishes in a voice of skepticism.

“Haha, what can I say, I’m really, _very_ clumsy,” Marinette answers back with a nervous laugh.

Alya is hardly convinced by her friend’s argument. Far from that. Very, very, _VERY_ far from that. Marinette is a great girl, she’s absolutely sure of that. But she’s definitely a horrible liar.

Letting out a small sigh, Alya leans over to her deskmate.

“If I didn’t know you so well, I would think that you were hiding something…” she whispers in a low voice.

Marinette jumps violently, as if struck by lightning.

“Me? Hiding something?” she repeats a bit too sharply. “No. No, no, no. What… What could I possibly be hiding, haha… Oh!” she exclaims, pointedly holding up her phone to wave it under her friend’s nose. “You see the time? I promised my parents that I would help in the store, I’m going to be late! See you tomorrow!”

Without wasting a second more, Marinette hastily sliding her belongings into her bag. Pencils, books, notebooks, she shoves everything in haphazardly without bothering to make sure she wasn’t damaging anything, stammering out a goodbye as she headed out of the classroom.

Alya’s gaze follows her, suspicious. Once Marinette is out of view, she lets out another sigh.

Despite her young age, she prides herself in being and excellent journalist. Few things in the world fascinate her as much as finding a scoop - except for perhaps mingling in her best friend’s love life. She loved finding clues, analyzing them, picking them apart, turning them around and around in her head until she came across a conclusion.

For her, things are now clear.

Marinette is hiding something from her. It’s evidence, even. Alya has been thinking about this question for weeks now, and now she has no doubt about it. With an admirable persistence, she had dissected each of her friend’s words. Each hesitation, each inconsistency, each lie. She had cross-checked the fact, analyzed the manner that Marinette had reacted to certain remarks, examined the slightest events that seemed out of the ordinary under a microscope.

The secret of Marinette is like a puzzle.

Alya had searched for the smallest details, had studied them carefully, before putting them together one-by-one. Then, rapidly, a crystal-clear image drew itself before her.

And the result of these reflections does not please her.

  


 

 

 

Ten days later, Alya notices a new mark on Marinette’s arm. The left one, this time. This bruise is less pronounced than the last, but it’s visible enough that it doesn’t escape her vigilance.

Alya reaches her hand out to her friend and gently taps her skin with her fingertip, just a centimeter below this new wound.

“Another bruise?” she asks sharply.

“Huh?” the girl jumps, before looking down at her arm. “Oh, I didn’t even see it…”

“Marinette, are you sure you’re okay?” Alya presses. “You know that you can talk to me. If you have problems, I’m here for you.”

“Problems?” Marinette repeats automatically. “What problems? I don’t have any problems. Absolutely not. I’m just…”

“Clumsy,” Alya completes for her friend, holding back a sigh. “I know, you never stop repeating that. But don’t think that I didn’t notice-”

“Well, we can talk and talk, but we’re going to be late for gym class!” Marinette cuts her off as she gets up abruptly. “I’m going on ahead!”

True to her word, the girl crosses the classroom as fast as if she was being chased by a horde of rabid dogs, tripping over Adrien’s bag, followed by a breathless “ _You see?_ ” over her shoulder. Then, without a word more, she leaves out the door and disappears in the hallway.

Alya wanted to scream.

She loved Marinette.

Sincerely.

But some days, her friend drove her crazy.

No. Not quite. It’s not just her friend who’s threatening her sanity. It’s also what she’s certain she’s discovered about her. The only logical explanation she sees for her strange attitude, her refusal to communicate, and all those bruises that decorate her arms.

 

 

 

 

At his own desk, Adrien had followed the strange exchange despite his best efforts. Not that he particularly wished to eavesdrop on the conversation of his neighbors behind him, but Alya’s voice had a tendency to carry when she spoke about subjects she felt strongly about. Clearly, her little interrogation fit perfectly in that category. And so, without meaning to, Adrien had caught every word of his classmate.

The words of the latter intrigue him. Worry him, even.

The young man exchanges a brief look with Nino. Judging by the perplexed expression that painted his friend’s features, he wasn’t the only one that had questions. A silent discussion takes place between the two boys, with a great fanfare of interrogative shrugs, far-fetched eyebrow undulations, and miming that borders on ridiculous.

Then, unable to hold it back any longer, both turn to Alya with the same gesture.

“Hey, you okay?” Adrien asks her with a worried look.

He doesn’t particularly like to meddle in others’ affairs, but here, the situation is too concerning for him to turn a blind eye. Alya makes her worry for her best friend very clear, and it rubs off on Adrien.

Especially since he holds a lot of affection for Marinette.

She’s the person that he considered as his friend, coupled with a talented apprentice designer whose creativity he admires enormously. If his Lady wasn’t a part of the picture, perhaps he would have considered her differently.

“It’s about Marinette” Alya responds, nervously turning her cell phone between her fingers. “It’s… With her, it’s complicated at the moment.”

“We figured as much,” Nino replies immediately. “Things have seemed tense between you two the past few weeks.”

“Yeah,” Alya sighs heavily as she shoots a look of regret in the now empty seat next to her.

Then, quickly, a determined spark lights up in her eye. Alya rises from her chair slightly, unconsciously clings to the edge of her desk, and leans towards her neighbors in front of her.

“I think… No, I _know_ that Marinette is hiding something from me,” she whispers to them in a conspiratorial tone. “Something serious. And I think I know what it is but she refuses to talk to me.”

“Are you sure you’re not getting ahead of yourself?” retorts Nino with an eyebrow raised in intrigue.

“I’m sure,” she replies in an offended voice, clearly outraged that anyone would raise doubt on her deductions. “I’ve discovered something about her. Something serious. Like really, really serious. And I… I’m not sure what to do with this information. Every time I try to approach the subject with her, she runs.”

“If you want, you can tell us about it,” Adrien offers to her, as Nino agrees with a vigorous nod.

As long as he doesn’t know what’s concerning Alya, Adrien isn’t sure how much he can really help.

But regardless, he’s full of resources, as Adrien and as Chat Noir, and the least he can do is offer his support to his friend. And considering the desperate expression now drawing itself on the girl’s face, she clearly needs it.

Alya looks nervously at the door, mechanically pushes her glasses up, and finally leans forward a bit more. Her eyes shine with a strange light, determination now mingling with anger.

“I think someone is beating Marinette,” she finally lets out.

  


 

 

If the situation hadn’t been so critical, Alya almost could have laughed at the astonished expressions that quickly overtook her friends’ faces. But she’s in the mood for anything but joking.

She wanted to be wrong. She really, _really_ wanted to be. And yet…

For a brief instant, Alya was lost in her thoughts. In great detail, she sees Marinette’s tears on her face when. Last winter, her best friend told her that she had caught a conversation between Nino and Adrien.

A conversation in which the one she loved confessed to be madly in love with a girl.

When Alya tried to console her friend by telling her that Adrien might be talking about her and that it was quite possible that his feelings were mutual, Marinette started crying more and more. Between sobs, she explained to Alya that she was sure that, unfortunately, wasn’t possible. Paralyzed by shock, she could only helplessly listen to the whole discussion, and when Nino his friend for more details, the latter had distinctly confided that the one who had stolen his heart was co-worker.

A model, certainly, Marinette had supposed. Or a photographer, a makeup artist, a stylist, an intern, whatever.

Someone that wasn’t her.

That was all she needed to know.

That was all it needed to break her heart.

Alya remembers all too well the long hours she spent comforting Marinette. The lengthy talks with her, trying to get her mind off it, to do everything to repair wounded heart. Little by little, Marinette started to get better. Smiling again, laughing too. Even succeeding in talking to Adrien without running away a few minutes later to hide somewhere and burst into tears.

And then one day, Marinette announced to Alya that she had fallen in love again.

Another boy, she explained to her. One of her friends that harbored feelings for her since their meeting, but she had never given him the chance as she was so focused on Adrien. One of her friends that she had finally started to see differently.

In a voice where her joy for life was palpable, Marinette explained at length to Alya about how this young man was extraordinary in her eyes. How he made her laugh, how she felt she could count on him no matter what the circumstances, how he had become the center of her universe.

Then, as she arrived one morning, cheeks red and eyes sparkling with joy Marinette told her best friend that she was finally going out with this boy that made her heart tick.

Alya recalls with a certain bitterness how pleased she was that Marinette had finally turned the page.

Of course, she had always found it strange, with all of the mysteries that her friend held around this new relationship. Even today, Marinette still refuses to let slip anything concerning the boy that she now shares her life with. Name, age, school… Alya knows absolutely nothing about him. And it’s not for lack of trying. These secrets tickle at her journalistic instinct push her to dig, dig and dig further.

But Marinette sometimes knows how to be even more stubborn than she is.

No matter what Alya begs. No matter her indirect questions. No matter how much pouting she does, and her appeals to a code of honor between best friends. Marinette refuses to say anything. As time went by, Alya finally let it go. It’s fine, she tells herself. Marinette is happy, and that’s all that matters.

At least, that’s what Alya thought until the nice weather returned.

Until Marinette goes back to wearing T-shirts and other short-sleeved tops, and she discovers those bruises that mar her friend’s skin a little too regularly.

Even as she delves deeply into her memory, Alya doesn’t remember seeing such bruises on Marinette’s arms during the previous autumn.

Alya wanted to be wrong. She really, _really_ wanted to be.

To believe that Marinette wasn’t concealing anything from her.

And yet… Her bruises, her evasive explanations that were downright absurd, this love life that she adamantly refuses to talk to her about… All of these strange facts were becoming too much for them not to be related. There are too many mysteries surrounding Marinette, too many lies for Alya to chalk them up to a simple coincidence.

For her, there is only one possibility.

A single secret hiding behind her friend’s bruises and the boy she was now seeing. And if these two facts are indeed connected to each other, it leads Alya to only one possible deduction. Whoever this boy who was now a part of Marinette’s life is, he is obviously a violent person who doesn’t hesitate to lay a hand on her.

Alya would have made anyone regret inflicting the slightest blow on behalf of her friend. But Marinette is obviously in denial. Too in love with this guy to leave him, undoubtedly.

“Beating…” Nino repeats, stupefied, pulling Alya suddenly out of her thoughts. “Like… beating, as in domestic violence?”

“Exactly,” Alya confirms, wringing her hands anxiously. “You know that she’s had a boyfriend for the past two or three months? And well, she refuses to tell me anything about him,” she continues, seeing her friends give a small nod. “And just by chance, _EXACTLY_ at the same time, she starts to have bruises that she doesn’t want to explain to me. It’s this guy, I’m sure,” she continued emotionally, her eyes shining with tears.

“You’re really certain that you’re not mistaken?” Adrien insists flatly. “That Marinette is…”

Adrien stops himself abruptly, clenching his fists in rage.

Marinette is one of the most gentle, most adorable girls he knows.

The simple that that someone could do any harm to her repulses him. It makes him want to find the guy in question and explain to him his way of thinking, to the tune of a Cataclysm to the face.

“There’s no other logical explanation,” Alya resumes in a trembling voice. “I’m sure that he’s hitting her, but she’s covering it up because she’s in love. You know how Marinette is,” she continued with a sigh. “She’s the type that’s convinced that everybody has a good side, whatever happens. Maybe she’s sure he’ll change, maybe she stays with him for I don’t know whatever other reason, but… I refuse to sit idly by!”

“What can we do?” Nino soon asks, as Adrien agrees with a quick nod of the head.

“I don’t know…” Alya sighs. “I’m already trying to find out more about this boy she’s dating… Maybe she’ll agree to tell me more about what exactly is going on between them. And if she continues to refuse to talk to me, then I’ll go to the next level.”

Alya stands up abruptly. On her features, anxiety has given way to an implacable anger, and her eyes shine with a determined spark that makes her two friends shudder.

“And I hope for his sake that she leaves him before I find out who he is,” she concludes in a tone low and menacing. “Because if not, I swear to you that I will make him pay for everything he’s done. Very, very, _VERY_ dearly.”


	2. Chapter 2

Alya is resolved to help Marinette.

The situation is serious. Far, far too serious for her to sit back and do nothing. Admittedly, Marinette’s bruises are so light that it’s probably more of an arm held a bit too hard rather than a blow. But that’s already too much. WAY too much. The young blogger barely tolerates the violence, but now, if she were to get her hands on the one hurting her friend, she wouldn’t hesitate to return to him one-hundredfold what he had inflicts on her.

Alya is resolved to help Marinette. No matter whether the latter agrees or not.

But alas, that’s much easier said than done.

She ignores up to the lack of a name of this mysterious stranger that has captured the heart of her friend, but without further information, she is stuck. A brief conversation with Marinette’s parents confirms that they don’t know anything about their daughter’s love situation, and she can hardly continue her investigation without attracting their suspicions.

For a moment, she had even considered talking to Tom and Sabine about Marinette and the violence that the latter seemed to be facing.

Alas, she knows her friend only all too well. Marinette is the most adorable girl in the world, but you don’t mess with her love life. Alya knows full well that if she decides to let her parents in on the secret, she will immediately incur her wrath.

If she deems it necessary, she will speak to them without the slightest hesitation.

But for now, she thinks she still has time.

Marinette hardly seemed to be in a critical situation and, on the contrary, without those worrying marks dotting her skin, Alya would have even said her friend was more fulfilled than ever. As for her parents, she’ll see about them later. Her priority right now is to try to get Marinette out of this toxic relationship that she’s in.

“Marinette,” she says innocently. “What did you tell me your boyfriend’s name is again?”

Quickly, her friend shoots her a look of suspicion.

“I never told you,” she eventually replies.

“But whyyyyy,” Alya groans. “Marinette, you don’t tell me _anything_ about him. You don’t show me photos, you won’t even give me his age… We are friends, right? Why won’t you tell me more about him?”

“I told you,” Marinette sighs, clearly deciding to ignore all of her complaints. “It’s complicated…”

“Why is it so complicated?” Alya insists, leaning towards her. “Marinette, you know that you can trust me. You can tell me everything, I swear I’ll keep to myself.”

“I know, I know,” Marinette replies with a mechanical shrug of the shoulders, “It’s just… Alya, I’m sorry.”

  
  


 

 

Comfortably seated on top of a roof, Ladybug absentmindedly contemplates the city that spans out at her feet.

The sun sets lazily over the capital, the golden reflections giving the buildings on the horizon the appearance of a sparkling crown. A few meters below the girl, the streets are still full of activity. The roar of engines rises in the air and the pedestrians walk the streets in a hurried step, never suspecting for a moment that their heroine is so close to them.

But even if they raised their heads, they wouldn’t be able to see her. Ladybug had chosen her perch wisely, opting for a place where she could watch the surroundings, all while staying quietly out of sight.

Ladybug lets out a stifled sigh as she drums her fingers on her legs without thinking. She’s tired of lying to Alya. Tired of evading her ceaseless questions, tired of the tension that has reigned between them for some time now. She would love to be able to talk freely about her love life with her, as any other girl would.

But she’s not just any girl, and the person she’s dating is just as out of the ordinary.

Suddenly, Ladybug picks her head up. She hears something behind her. The light sound of someone landing landing softly on the slate, followed by footsteps slowly approaching her. Then, all of a sudden, a gloved hand appears in her field of vision to gently brush her cheek.

Ladybug couldn’t help but smile at the tender contact that she had missed so much during her long day.

“Good evening, my Lady,” Chat Noir purrs sweetly.

“Good evening Chat,” she replies as she raises her head in his direction.

Chat Noir leans toward her to place a gentle kiss on her lips, then sits himself by her side. With a gesture made fluid by the force of habit, he slides an arms around her waist and pulls her tightly against him. Ladybug rests her head against Chat Noir’s shoulder, wriggling a little to better curl up to him, and lets out a small sigh of contentment.

It’s already been months since this physical affection became nothing unusual between them, but each time, Ladybug still feels a delicious chill run down her spine. It took some time for her to give her partner a chance, but she doesn’t regret it in the least.

Chat Noir is everything she could wish for, and then some.

He’s her teammate and her best friend. The one that she can trust absolutely, the one who knows her by heart, even if he doesn’t know her name.

The one who makes her laugh. Smile.

The one she could kiss until she’s out of breath, and then ask for more.

For better or for worse, this boy has definitely become the center of her world. Little by little, he’s slipped into her heart, despite all the fears or reservations she might have had. But Ladybug doesn’t doubt for an instant that her relationship with Chat Noir is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to her. He gives her the feeling of belonging to something bigger than herself, of having found her place in the universe.

He makes her happy. Plain and simple.

“Did you have a good day?” Chat Noir asks her, leaning into her to kiss her sweetly on the head.

“Meh,” Ladybug replies tiredly.

Chat Noir flinches almost imperceptibly, and immediately, Ladybug feels an extraordinary burst of affection for her partner swelling up inside of her.

Beneath his boastful exterior, this boy is without a doubt the most considerate person. He never fails to notice when she feels low - despite the efforts she sometimes makes to hide it from him, and he never lets her mope around without trying to make her smile again by any means.

Ladybug knows with the deepest certainty that he will always be there for her. To help her, to encourage her, to support her in her moments of weakness.

“But it’s much better now that you’re here,” she resumes with a tender smile.

Chat Noir seems to relax immediately. His expression lights up, and his electric green eyes suddenly seem to sparkle with joy.

“And you?” Ladybug continues.

Chat Noir hesitates for a moment.

“‘Meh’ too,” he finally responds. “But it’s much better now that you’re here,” he concludes with a mischievous wink.

Ladybug lets out a little laugh, and the crystalline sound seems to delight her partner. A big smile on her lips, she turns slightly to face Chat Noir, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him against her to kiss him tenderly.

All of her worries fly away immediately, forgotten for a time.

Ladybug will have plenty of free time to think about her difficulties with Alya later. For now, she enjoys the current moment, savoring Chat Noir’s sweet kisses atop the roofs of Paris.

  
  


 

 

The days pass and Alya desperately tries to learn more about the mysterious boy that Marinette is seeing.

But it’s in vain.

To her annoyance, her best friend is as determined to keep her secrets as she is to try to pull them out. Marinette evades the smallest of her questions, pretends not to understand, runs away when her interrogations become too pressing.

And worst of all, Alya unwillingly sees new collections of bruises added to her friend’s arms. Each time, she tries to squeeze clear and precise explanations from Marinette about the presence of these bruises. And each time, her friend gives her more and more absurd excuses.

One day, she slipped on a sandwich.

Another, she bumped her arms against a coffee table.

Another still, a sick pigeon had fallen on her. Twice.

It’s too much for Alya. Tired of approaching the problem from behind in vain, she decides to directly confront her friend.

“Marinette, is your boyfriend hitting you?” she asks her without any sort of preamble.

Marinette jumps. The surprise on her face could not be more evident, but quickly, it disappears to make way for another expression. Marinette frowns, flushes, then aims her eyes sparkling with anger at Alya.

“What are you talking about?” she growls in a low voice.

“Marinette,” Alya levels, softly placing her hand on her arm. “I’m not blind… The boy that you refuse to tell me about, these bruises that you have no explanation for… You may be in love with him, but that doesn’t justify in any way if he’s-”

“He isn’t hitting me!” Marinette exclaims, exasperated.

Alya holds in a deep sigh.

Denial, of course.

She should have expected it, especially since she is her best friend.

Marinette is too stubborn, too charitable, and too optimistic. And worst of all, she has an unfortunate tendency to lose all sense when she’s in love.

A dangerous cocktail. Dangerous for her.

Alright. Marinette can hide her face as much as she wishes, she’ll have to open her eyes to the situation one day. And to do that, Alya has a plan.

  
  


 

 

Adrien can’t help but admire Alya’s tenacity.

Almost every day, he heard her interrogating Marinette about the boy she’s seeing. Sometimes, she asks direct questions, clearly demanding his name or his age. Other times, she proves to be more cunning - or more _subtle_ , as she preferred to call it-, trying to extract information from her in a roundabout way, to chance upon it in a conversation that had nothing to do with it.

“Hey, nice color on the history teacher,” he hears her say in a tone a bit too enthusiastic to be natural. “I’ve always loved red hair, don’t you, Marinette?”

Adrien doesn’t even need to turn around to figure out what’s happening behind him. Hearing the silence that Marinette answers with, he has no trouble imagining her shooting a look at her best friend.

“Nice try, Alya,” his neighbor behind him finally replies flatly. “I’m not going to tell you if he’s red-headed or not.”

Throughout the following week, Adrien notices new patterns in Marinette. The latter is no longer chatting face-to-face with her best friend, instead always arranging for a third person to be with them.

This strategy is certainly to avoid having to face new interrogations and innumerable complaints. Marinette probably hopes that Alya will avoid discussing her mysterious boyfriend in front of their other classmates.

But clearly, that is underestimating the young blogger.

One noon, as Nino and Adrien ate lunch in the company of their two friends, Alya turns toward Marinette.

“Listen,” she says to her, “I know you don’t like to talk about the subject, but I think we need to talk about your boyfriend.”

Instantly, Marinette flushes violently. Of embarrassment? Of anger? Adrien cannot say. However, given the incisive look she shoots at Alya, she clearly has no doubt as to what turn the conversation is about to take.

And she obviously does not want it to continue further.

“Well, I don’t think there’s anything particular to talk about it,” she she retorts almost aggressively. “And plus, I’m sure that it would annoy Nino and Adrien,” she continued, gesturing to the two boys with a hand motion.

“Not at all,” Alya replies before her friends even have the time to open their mouths. “And plus, I’ve already discussed it with them.”

“Alya!” Marinette cries indignantly, blushing even more.

“Marinette,” her friend starts calmly, “I know - _WE_ know - that we need to-”

“Alya,” Marinette groans, “Now is not the time.”

“I know that you refuse to admit it,” Alya continues, unperturbed, “but you’re in a toxic relationship. You can’t let someone hurt you and not-”

Marinette clenches her fists and, instinctively, Adrien recoils slightly. Usually, his classmate is a concentrated shot of cheerfulness and optimism. A girl perpetually smiling, whose joy of living is contagious.

But here, her big azure eyes have taken the look of a stormy sky. They darken, sparkle with rage, threatening to strike Alya down on the spot if she dares say one more word. Jaw tight, chin aggressively raised forward, Marinette seems ready to turn into true fury.

“Alya,” she rumbles out in a voice that vibrates with anger, “ _NOBODY_  is hurting me. Especially not _HIM_. This is a misunderstanding.”

“So why?” her friend immediately replies. “Why all these bruises?”

“I told you,” Marinette sighs. “I’m just…”

“Clumsy?” Alya finished, raising a cautious eyebrow.

“VERY clumsy!” Marinette adds, clearly exasperated by the situation. “Honestly, Alya, have a little trust in me!”

Alya pauses for a moment and then lets out a sigh.

“I would love to,” she finally began, a pained expression on her face. “But Marinette… Why don’t you ever tell me exactly where all these bruises come from? And why don’t you talk to me about your boyfriend if there’s nothing weird between you two?”

Obviously running out of arguments, Marinette opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again, and closes it again, without pronouncing a single word.

Adrien remains silent in stupor. He has never seen such an altercation between the two girls, and to be honest, he hardly wants to experience it once. On the other hand, he begins to seriously wonder if it would be better or not for him to intervene immediately to try to calm things down.

In search of an endorsement, he casts a brief glance to Nino and raises a questioning eyebrow at him. A distraught expression is immediately painted on his best friend’s features. Clearly understanding Adrien’s message, Nino quickly shakes his head from side to side, silently urging him to stay out of this quarrel.

So as Adrien prepares to follow their conversation from the sidelines once again with grimaces and other brow gestures, Alya begins to speak again.

“Marinette,” she insists, leaning toward her friend. “You need help…”

“I. Don’t. Need. Help,” Marinette hisses through her teeth. “And my boyfriend would NEVER hurt me,” she continues, her gaze sparkling with anger. “On the contrary! If only you knew, Alya… He’s… He’s the most kind person. The most courageous, the most extraordinary… He’s… I admire him a lot, you know. He’s my hero, in some way,” she continues with a tender smile. “I’m afraid he’ll be hurt one day from wanting to protect me,” she adds in a more somber voice. “Well, not like I need the protection! I really don’t!” she carries on earnestly. “But he’s not hurting me, I swear.”

“Marinette,” Alya starts again in a worried voice.

“Well, I’m not hungry anymore!” her friend abruptly exclaims, clearly desiring to cut the conversation short.

Marinette gets up quickly and grabs her backpack to swing it over her shoulder.

“I’m going to take this opportunity to finish my math exercises, I didn’t have time to finish them yesterday,” she continues with a sorry excuse for a smile that convinces nobody. “See you later!”

  
  


 

 

Gaze fixed on Marinette’s empty seat, Alya mechanically turns her pencil in her fingers. The bell announcing the end of classes has just finished ringing in the building and her friend is probably already far away. She had jumped out of her seat like a starting block, and ran the few meters she had to cross to get out of the classroom before Alya had the time to say even a word to her.

In the young blogger’s place, anyone else probably would have given up. Especially after the fiasco at lunch.

But Alya is a stubborn person. And very, very, _very_ tenacious.

Marinette may not want to hear the voice of reason, but she refuses to let her be stuck in a potentially dangerous relationship without doing anything. Throughout the afternoon, Alya thought long and hard. About her best friend, about the person she’s seeing, about this situation that is much more alarming than Marinette wants to admit.

She has to open her friend’s eyes. To make her understand that it’s crucial she break up with this boy before things take a dramatic turn. For that, she has a plan, again. But this time, she absolutely needs some outside help.

“Hey,” she suddenly says to her two neighbors in front of her. “Do you have a few free minutes? I need your help for something.”


	3. Chapter 3

The sun had just risen over Paris and Marinette is tired.

Tired of having to ceaselessly justify herself to Alya. Tired of lying to her. Tired of hiding this love life from her that she wished she could talk to her about. Tired of having to reschedule her meetings with Chat Noir out of fear being caught by her best friend - Alya had already tried to follow her, she knows this. Her friend thinks she’s being discreet, but for the young heroine, checking her surroundings in search of any unwanted witnesses is second-nature. Alya did her best, but Marinette never had trouble spotting her.

But most of all, Marinette is tired of this almost omnipresent tension that had between Alya and her.

Three days earlier, the altercation that they had that noon had inflicted another blow to her morale that was already well worn by the weeks of discord and misunderstandings. Since then, Marinette couldn’t help but to feel a certain apprehension each time she spoke to Alya. Not knowing if their conversations would turn into a storm. No longer able to spend a moment in the company of her best friend without her guard being constantly gnawed at.

If she were to listen to herself, Marinette would have transformed to skip class.

Just for today. Just to breathe a little.

But alas for her, she is a serious student, coupled with a heroine who already accumulates far too many hours of absence to allow herself to add more without a viable reason. Her parents have already punished her enough times for not being where she should be, when she should be, and she does not want to incur more problems.

Heart heavy, Marinette prepares to leave for class.

On her journey, her thoughts wander. She dreams of seeing Chat Noir. To curl up in his arms and forget all these worries, to listen to his absurd puns that amuse her more than she wants to let on. To be with him, plain and simply.

She misses him.

She sees him near every day, and yet, she misses him in a way almost _physical_.

Marinette wants to feel the warmth of his hand in hers, to hear his laughter, to marvel at the way his eyes shine when he looks at her. She wants movie dates, picnics in the park, reunions with him right after school, romantic walks along the Seine.

She wants a normal emotional life.

Everything that a teenager like her should be able to experience.

Everything that the two superheroes can’t have.

Perhaps it would be time for Marinette to stop running. To finally make the decision to entrust her true identity to her partner, and let him reveal his own.

She’s just… scared.

Not of the reaction Chat Noir might have at discovering who she is, no. Their relationship is now far too strong, far too deep for that topic to be her main concern.

No. She’s scared _for_ Chat Noir.

Scared of the way his behavior might change if they crossed this crucial line in their relationship. Scared to find out just how far he would be willing to go for her.

Because Marinette knows her partner far too well. She knows too well to what point he never hesitates to put himself in danger to help her, and how much he prioritizes the safety of his partner above all else. As soon as Ladybug is threatened, Chat Noir never hesitates to put himself on the front line. To take hits in her place, to even risk his own life if he deems it necessary.

All that when he doesn’t even know who she really is.

To share their identities, it wouldn’t just be putting a name and a face to the person behind the mask. It would mean uncovering entire parts of their lives that they had hidden until then. Discovering family. Friends. Hopes, dreams, doubts. Thousands of little everyday things that would bring them together more than ever and make their story all the more concrete. More real.

More precious.

Marinette wants to share her identity with Chat Noir. But she’s terrified at the idea that he’ll take twice as much risk once he knows who she really is, wanting to protect both the heroine and the girl behind the mask.

If something ever happened to him because of her, she would never get over it, that was certain.

She loves him.

She may have taken her time to realize that, but she loves him. With all of her heart, with all of her soul.

Marinette is scared, but she doesn’t want to have to choose between her duties and her friends. She wouldn’t stop being Ladybug, but if she knew who Chat Noir was, she could talk freely about him with Alya. Better still, she would have the opportunity to introduce them to one another. Let them talk together, give them the chance to get to know each other.

And then Alya would finally understand that her partner is incapable of doing the least bit of harm to her.

Lost in her thoughts, Marinette hardly notices that she’s now standing in front of her classroom door. It’s not until Rose greets her cheerfully when she arrives that she abruptly comes back into contact with reality. She jumps, shakes her head to clear her mind, smiles at her friend, and enters the room.

Once at her desk, Marinette lets out a small sigh. She has no idea what Alya has in store for her but she hopes with all her heart that for once, her day will be peaceful.

 

 

Marinette’s day is strange. Definitely strange. And paradoxically, it begins in a relatively normal manner.

To Marinette’s great relief, Alya doesn’t seem to be in the mood to start up with the endless reproaches that she typically makes regarding her mysterious love life. On the contrary, she chats as if nothing had happened, pleasantly enjoying the last few minutes before the last students settle into their seats.

While Marinette enjoys this more than welcome moment of relaxation, Chloé arrive, Sabrina on her heels. Instead of going directly to her place, the mayor’s daughter takes a step in Marinette’s direction. She glances at her, a haughty grin on her lips, before letting out a contemptuous sigh.

“I can’t even believe you’re _so_  stupid,” she blurts out suddenly. “Even _you_  deserve better,” she concludes before briskly turning on her heels to go sit down.

“Exactly,” Sabrina quickly adds.

Without another word, she in turn pivots herself around in a perfect imitation of her best friend, leaving one dumbfounded Marinette in the wake of this unexpected confrontation.

For a few minutes, the girls tries to make sense of the curious attitude of her classmates. And she gives up quickly. Who knows what goes on in Chloé’s mind - and who would really like to know? Certainly not her. The petulant daughter of the mayor surely just felt the need to let off some steam after being annoyed by something of critical importance in her eyes. Like a mark on her face or a rebellious lock among the impeccable styling of her hair.

Whatever.

Marinette has other subjects to preoccupy her, starting with her problems with Alya.

When the break bell rang, Marinette rose with a sigh. Alya had been strangely calm throughout the start of the morning, which is far from being a good sign lately. But to the great surprise of the young heroine, her friend doesn’t start on one of those long and painful interrogations in which she has secrets. On the contrary, she waves cheerfully before leaving to chat with Nino and Adrien.

Marinette doesn’t have time to ask any questions, as Rose and Juleka approach to keep her company. Talking about everything and nothing, the three girls are heading toward the courtyard in unison and settle a little away from their classmates.

At first, Marinette simply enjoys this moment of relaxation spent with her friends. But rapidly, the conversation takes a strange turn. Right in the middle of a passionate discussion of the chances of having a test in history next week, Rose begins to tout about the merits of a healthy relationship. With the silent agreement from Juleka, she insists on the importance of mutual respect between a couple, and is ecstatic about the fact that nothing is more beautiful than two people who love and support each other without the slightest reserve.

Normally, Marinette would not have questioned it. Rose is a steadfast romantic, go on at length about love at the slightest opportunity.

But here, in light of the circumstances and the insistent glances that her friends shoot at her, she starts to seriously wonder if something isn’t being plotted behind her back.

The sudden arrival of Kim and Alix barely a minute later only confirms her suspicions.

“Listen, Marinette,” Kim starts at her. “If you ever need protection from anything…”

“...or _against_  anyone…” Alix adds.

“...you can count on us,” her friend concludes. “I don’t like violence, but I’m intimidating enough if you ever want to have someone with you to feel reassured.”

“Yes, violence is bad” Alix approves with a vigorous nod. “And I may be less impressive than Kim - _PHYSICALLY_  less impressive,” she corrects, catching her classmate’s smile, “But regardless, I’m wherever you want, whenever you want, for any challenge you want,” she continues at the attention of the young man. “But in short,” she starts again, turning back to Marinette. “If you need us to go with you, to play bodyguards… We’re here for you.”

“Did Alya ask you two to talk to me?” Marinette mutters, shooting a suspicious glance to her friend.

A few meters away, the latter catches her gaze and responds with the most innocent of smiles.

“Alya?” Kim exclaims in a voice that is anything but convincing. “I don’t see what Alya has to do with this.”

“Yeah,” Alix agrees vigorously. “It’s just… An initiative. A purely friendly and spontaneous initiative. Nothing to do with Alya.”

Before Marinette has the time to say anything, the ringing to announce the end of the break sounded through the courtyard. Giving up on continuing the conversation any further, the girl shrugs and walks away from her friends, grumbling.

As she heads to her classroom, Marinette runs through all of the recent events of the start of her morning. Rose. Juleka. Kim. Alix. Not to mention Chloé and her strange insults. All of this does not bode well.

Marinette sits on her bench, where she’s quickly joined by her best friend.

“Alya… I hope that you didn’t do what I think you did,” she huffs out at her with a creaking voice.

“I don’t know _at all_ what you’re talking about,” her friend replies, acting falsely scandalized. “Oh, look, the teacher is here,” she starts, gesturing theatrically to the entrance of the room. “I would love to continue this conversation, but I don’t want to be punished. Sorry,” she concludes in a voice far too satisfied, before pointedly plunging her nose into her book.

Marinette stifles a frustrated grunt. Whatever twisted plan Alya has clearly decided to carry out, it’s hardly likely to please her.

 

 

The noon meal arrives and Marinette’s suspicions are confirmed. Apparently believing that only strength in numbers would persuade her best friend, Alya has clearly rallied their class in her crusade.

As Marinette ate, wondering with a certain worry if a new strange incident wasn’t going to take place, a voice suddenly rose over the hubbub of the crowd. Sitting a few meters from her, Max, who was, until then, in deep conversation with Kim, suddenly rose his tone.

“I don’t know if you know,” he says to his friend in a concise voice, “But a large percentage of victims of domestic violence are women. It often starts with a simple slap or a small hit somewhere, so people sometimes tend to think it’s not that bad,” he continues, digging in his pocket to get out a sheet full of numbers and graphs of all kinds, before holding it conspicuously to be in plain view. “But statistically, the chances of the situation becoming serious quickly are…”

Stunned, Marinette stops paying attention to Max’s speech to take a frightened look around. But apparently, she is the only one to be surprised by the young man’s strange intervention.

Worse still, far from being taken aback by Max’s behavior, all of her classmates are watching her out of the corner of their eye. Absolutely _all of them_.

“I’m not hungry anymore!” she exclaims, rising abruptly from the table and walking away in a fast step.

 

 

Once back in her classroom, Marinette falls heavily onto her bench and holds her head in her hands. She would love to find Alya to have her explain her thought process, but her friend has very conveniently been absent since the end of their previous class. Perhaps she went back home to eat, or perhaps she’s just nibbling on a sandwich somewhere else in the school.

Whatever the case, she’s clearly doing her best to avoid Marinette and all of the questions she could ask her. Like " _What just happened exactly?_ ”, “ _Do you plan to leave me alone for one day?_ ” or “ _Who else is going to ruin my day?_ ”, for example.

The minutes roll by and the students begin, little by little, to return to their places.

Passing by Marinette, Nathaniel slows down, blushing lightly and setting a paper on her desk, murmuring a shy “ _For you_ ”. Surprised, the girl lifts her eyes toward her classmate, but she barely has time to open her mouth before he’s already moving away. Abandoning to pursue Nathaniel, Marinette shrugs absent-mindedly. She finally lowers her eyes to the paper, to discover a portrait of herself, written on it “Courage, we are all with you.”

Marinette barely has time to take in the drawing when Ivan arrives in turn and discreetly slips a business card in front of her. Furrowing her brows slightly, the girl picks up the rectangle of cardstock. She quickly deciphers the few lines written on it and lets out a hiccup of surprise that she can’t manage to hold back. Under her dumbfounded gaze are the contact details for a helpline to support victims of violence.

Marinette feels a flash of deceptive warmth rise from within her. She clenches her fists instinctively and has to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from screaming. Because it is no longer a legitimate annoyance that creeps within her, raising her pulse and boiling her blood. No, this is anger. A dull, tenacious fury that needs to be let out. Her classmates’ behaviors are clearly out of good intention, but her patience is at its end.

And as if by chance, Alya still isn’t back from the noontime break.

The young blogger is almost certainly waiting until the last second to avoid heated explanations and in all honesty, Marinette has to admit that, for once, her friend is showing common sense. She is currently in such a state of anger mixed with shame that she feels about ready to explode in rage.

Alya only reappears with the arrival of their teacher, a small, satisfied smile on her lips. She sits next to Marinette, pretending not to noticed the outraged looks that her friend is throwing at her, the same way she ignores the notes she passes to her throughout the afternoon.

When the bell for the end of classes finally rings, Marinette turns to Alya, dead set on getting a solid explanation from her. But before she has the time to say anything, she is interrupted by an authoritative voice.

“Okay, I ask that you all stay seated in your places for a few moments,” their teacher says from his desk. “A few of your classmates have informed me that they would like to make a presentation at the end of class. I don’t see any objections, so I give then the floor and I ask that you respect their work and listen carefully to what they have to say to you all. And if any of you think about leaving before they’re finished, I will know, do not doubt that,” he concludes in a menacing voice. “Nino, Mylène, it’s all yours.”

True to his words, the teacher moves aside to make room for his two students, before discreetly exiting the classroom. Plagued with a bad feeling, Marinette sees Mylène and Nino exchange a knowing glance, nod quickly, and step forward to face their classmates. Standing in front of the desk. They clear their voices and start talking.

And immediately, Marinette has the impression of falling into a strange dream. Or rather, into an incredible nightmare. Speechless, she sees her friends begin to give a presentation that has clearly taken them hours of work, and on a subject none other than toxic relationships. How to recognize them. How to avoid them. How to get out of them. All that, along with a number of mentions on physical violence within couples and diverse and varied legal advice.

Marinette has the unpleasant feeling of hallucinating, so much that the situation seems unreal.

She doesn’t know what’s worse.

That Nino and Mylène are clearly addressing her.

That all, absolutely _ALL_ of her classmates have their eyes on her, looking at her sympathetically.

That all, absolutely _ALL_ of her classmates are obviously convinced that the one she loves is beating her.

The simple thought that they could accuse Chat Noir of being capable of such a horror revolts Marinette. If her friends knew, if _only_ they knew to what point her partner never hesitates to put himself in danger for _her_ … How many times he had barely escaped catastrophe to protect her, how much she lives in terror that _he_ takes too many hits…

A deep feeling of injustice mixes with the relentless fury in the heart of the girl, the taste such that it makes her nauseous.

Paralysed by a tempest of emotions whose intensity is increasing by the second, Marinette doesn’t even notice when Nino and Mylène finish their presentation. A muffled buzzed resonates in her ears, stifling the outside noise, as her heart is now beating so forcefully that she feels it pulsing in every part of her being.

Marinette has the sudden feeling of her vision being clouded in red. Not the warm red of Ladybug, but the glowing red of a river of lava, announcing the most volcanic of angers.

She is within seconds of cracking.

In a desperate attempt to keep calm, Marinette instinctively grips her desk, closes her eyes with all her might, and takes a deep breath.

Stay calm.

Stay calm.

Stay. Calm.

When she finally opens her eyelids, Marinette catches the cautious look that Adrien gives Alya. But whatever little disagreement silently takes place between her two friends, the battle seems to be quickly won by Alya.

Adrien gives a slight nod, lets out a little sigh, then turns to Marinette and slides a card on her desk.

“Here, if… If you ever need help, here’s the number of my father’s lawyer,” he starts hesitantly. “If you just say you’re calling on my behalf and-”

It’s too much for Marinette.

The rage and frustration that has accumulated during her long day swirls around her like a flood of rage, taking with it the last of her reserves.

She cracks.


	4. Chapter 4

As he gives the number of his father’s lawyer to Marinette, Adrien surveys his friend’s reaction with a certain worry. It’s not that he’s against Alya’s plan, but he’s afraid that such badgering is becoming excessive.

And now, his fears are justified.

From where he is, Adrien can pinpoint the exact moment when Marinette’s patience comes to its end. He is standing close enough to her that he can’t help but notice how her immense blue eyes widen. How her cheeks blush in anger. How the muscles of her jaw quickly contract. Not to mention how she is clinging to her desk with such vitriol that the young man is surprised that they don’t leave a mark.

Marinette vibrates with such a rage that Adrien has the impression that he is feeling it physically. Feeling waves of fury across the air hit him hard, leaving him paralyzed in stupor.

And before Adrien has the time to start in the slightest backtracking, to say even a word to try to defuse the coming explosion, Marinette jumps from her seat.

“I have had ENOUGH!” she yells, violently slapping her hands down on her desk, striking the wood with a terrifying crash. “For the last time, MY. BOYFRIEND. IS. NOT. HURTING. ME. How many times and in how many languages must I repeat that before you comprehend it?”

Marinette stands up tall, her chin proudly liftly, and shoots a look at each of her classmates.

“You are ALL wrong,” she shouts, even stronger. “I have bruises because I BUMP INTO THINGS. Because I FALL,” she hammers insistently. “Not because I’m being beat by someone who would NEVER raise a hand on me. So whatever you’ve been told is just a huge misunderstanding,” she concludes, turning to Alya.

Interrupting her tirade for a moment, Marinette takes a deep breath in an obvious effort to calm herself.

“I know you’re worried for me,” she starts in a voice trembling in anger, “and normally, I would appreciate it. But here, things are going too far. WAY too far. I would love if you could trust me when I talk to you and I _repeat_  to you that my boyfriend is not hitting me. And above all, I would love for you to leave me ALONE when it comes to him!”

As Alya settles shamefully into her seat, Marinette lets out a furious grunt.

“To think that you ALL thought that… That my.... That he… That I’m… Raaaaa!” she exclaims, glaring at her friends again. “I know that Alya is the queen of twisted plans and quick conclusions, but you ALL thought that I was actually being hit. You didn’t ONCE ask yourselves if Alya could be wrong. You didn’t ONCE come see me to ask questions!”

Marinette’s sparkling eyes stopped abruptly on Nino, instinctively retreating his head into his shoulders.

“Meanwhile, YOU knew that I told Alya that she was wrong,” she spits at him, her voice growing dangerously sharp with each new word that escapes her lips. “You were there during our conversations. But no, you had to follow in her delusions!”

Before Nino has the time to articulate a single word in his defense, Marinette turns her head acutely toward Adrien. The young man feels himself blanch as the blood flees from his face. Never had he seen his friend in such a state of fury that the fact that he was clearly the next victim of her wrath does not reassure him.

“And YOU!” she shouts, pointing an accusatory finger toward him. “I thought that you would have been the most reasonable out of the two of you! Because as much as I can understand THEM, usually YOU, you seemed to have a minimum amount of common sense!”

Adrien gulps painfully. In front of him, his friend is yelling, storming, letting loose this thundering anger has been brewing within her for way too long.

The entire class remains paralyzed by this violent onslaught of fury. Just like his classmates, Adrien doesn’t dare make a move or utter a word, for fear of further fueling the hurricane that is rampaging before him. Even akumas - which the young man watches for worryingly - hardly seem inclined to come face his friend.

And Adrien understands them. Judging by the look of rage that flares in her eyes, Marinette is going to end up killing someone.

  
  


 

Marinette is going to end up killing someone. That’s certain.

She feels it, deep within herself.

So, before her actions and words go beyond the limits of the irreparable, the girl takes advantage of an ultimate moment of clarity to make a cautious retreat. Hands trembling under the effect of the anger, she hastily stuffs her things into her bag and storms out of the classroom.

She couldn’t remember if she had ever been in such a state of rage.

Her heart beats furiously in her chest, booming with the rhythm of the tempest that has been unleashed in her entire being. She feels that she can only sense that heavy, insistent pulse that feeds her anger with each passing second. In a desperate effort to keep her self-control, Marinette clenches her fists so hard that her nails dig painfully into the palms of her hands.

Certainly, Alya’s obtrusive interventions had been out of good intention.

But Marinette can’t stand to see her ceaselessly accuse Chat Noir - _HER_ Chat Noir - of being a despicable person. He deserves better than that. Never should he be the target of such contempt, such gossip, such innumerable slanders that sicken her heart. Marinette already painfully knew that her best friend had informed Nino and Adrien of her theories. But that she had gotten their _entire_  class and perhaps the _entire_  school on her side, that was too much.

Too absurd.

Too cruel.

Too injust.

Just… Too much.

Marinette has her limits, and those have been largely reached. She needs air, peace, time. To get away for a moment from these people who only want the best for her, but hurt her without knowing it.

It only takes a moment for Marinette to arrive home. She barely greets her parents as she crosses the living room like a tornado, before scrambling to her room. Then, without a second more, she furiously dumps her bag on her bed, transforms, and leaps out the window.

  
  


 

The sun is beginning to disappear behind the horizon and, perched on the roofs of Paris, Ladybug is no less angry. Jaw clenched, she scans the area, her piercing blue eyes seeming to challenge anybody that dares to stoke her discontent.

The young heroine runs a hand over her face and lets out an irritated groan, before jumping slightly when an unexpected exclamation rises up behind her.

“My Lady?” her partner articulates, approaching her cautiously. “Is everything alright?”

Ladybug feels the skin of her cheeks softly warm under her mask, signaling an undeniable display of embarrassment.

“Sorry, kitty…” she excuses with contrite little smile. “I had a bad day…”

“Welcome to the club…” Chat Noir sighs, letting himself fall heavily to her side.

Ladybug shoots him an incisive look. Ordinarily, their meetings put her teammate in a good mood, but today, that was clearly not the case. On the contrary, seeing the way he’s struggling to smile and how his eyes avoid hers, Chat Noir seems particularly dejected.

Like he sometimes is after a long and hard day.

Like he sometimes is after a dispute with his father.

Ladybug doesn’t know what is bothering her companion, but as always, she feels her heart clench at seeing him like this. Instinctively, she reaches a hand out to him and laces her fingers with his.

“You want to talk about it?” she asks him with a weak smile.

“Why not…” Chat Noir sighs. “Who’ll start?”

“Go ahead,” Ladybug offers, with a slight encouraging nod. “I’m listening.”

Gaze lost in the tide, Chat Noir lets out another sigh.

“I had a fight with one of my friends,” he starts hesitantly. “Well, it was a bit one-sided, rather that she yelled at me. Which is more or less the same, I suppose. She’s angry with me.”

As Chat Noir pauses for a moment, Ladybug gently squeezes her fingers in his to silently show her support. Despite the mask that conceals part of his face, the mortified expression on her teammate’s face is clearly visible.

“The situation is a bit… complicated…” Chat Noir picks up again, rubbing a hand on the back of his head by habit. “I don’t really know how to put this simply.”

“You can always try, if you want,” Ladybug replies with a little smile. “I promise, if I don’t understand anything, I’ll tell you.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” he responds, leaning gently into Ladybug to place a kiss on her cheek. “Actually, this friend… Her best friend is convinced that she’s being beaten by her boyfriend. Because she always has bruises on her arms, and she never has any explanations for their origins. And she never says anything about her boyfriend.”

Not noticing the almost inaudible hiccup of surprise that escapes from Ladybug, Chat Noir continues his story.

“In short,” he goes on, once again allowing his gaze to wander across the city that stretches beneath his feet. “My friend keeps saying that nothing is happening. But her best friend is convinced otherwise, and as a result, she asked us to intervene. And by _’_ us’, I mean the whole class. There are people that tried to talk to her more or less subtly about her love life, others offered to protect her if she needed, for example, in the case that she’s scared to break up with her boyfriend… Someone even made a presentation about domestic violence!” he adds with a little embarrassed laugh. “On my end, I settle on giving her the number for a lawyer, but… It really was a lot. For my friend, I mean. I’ve never seen her so angry! She…”

As he turns his head slightly to set his gaze on his teammate, Chat Noir stops abruptly.

Something isn’t right.

Under her mask, Ladybug is pallid. Frighteningly pale, almost corpsellike. Her pupils are dilated in shock, as if she had just seen a ghost, and she’s currently so still that she could easily pass as a wax statue.

“My Lady?” he murmurs in a perplexed voice, leaning towards her.

But his partner doesn’t seem to hear it. Then, suddenly, her eyes come back to life. They begin to frantically sweep across the young man’s face, scanning, analyzing, scrutinizing the slightest details of his features, as if she was seeing it for the first time.

Ladybug could not have looked more bewildered if her world had exploded in front of her.

“A… A… “ she sputters, clearly incapable of formulating the slightest coherent word.

“Ladybug?” Chat Noir urges, more and more worried.

“Adrien?” she whispers in a small breath.

For Chat Noir, the shock is as brutal as a punch to the stomach. He feels his heart do a perilous flip in his chest, bouncing painfully against his ribs, before resuming its furious beating.

Throat suddenly dry, he rubs his hand along the length of his neck.

“Adrien,” Ladybug repeats slowly. “Adrien. Agreste.”

And all of a sudden, the obvious fact hits Chat Noir. Fast, hard, illuminating his brain as violently as lightning tearing through the night.

His teammate’s reaction cannot be a coincidence.

Eyes riveted on Ladybug, the young man has the sensation of the ground slipping away underneath him. How has he never noticed it before? How could he have not seen _anything_?

That blueish black hair. Those luminous smiles, those bursts of laughter that joyously warmed his heart. That face that he would have sworn to know the features of by heart, and yet he had never recognized until then. And those eyes, the crystal-clear blue.

That sky blue gaze that soothes his nights and haunts his days.

That sky blue gaze that he saw shining far too familiarly on the face of one of his classmates.

Ladybug.

And behind the mask…

“Ma… Marinette?” he stammers, breath suddenly short.

Stifling back another groan, Ladybug presses her hands to her face.

“Adrien,” she grumbles, the frustration in it now clearly palpable. “It’s you. It’s _you_ , you’re Chat Noir. It’s been you from the start.”

Chat Noir nods his head slightly, incapable of shaking this strange sensation of having been catapulted into a dream. The reality that he had known this morning was now shattered, replaced by a new world that he is struggling to apprehend.

“So that was the reason?” he utters painstakingly, still trying to come to his senses after this incredible discovery. “For your bruises? It’s just that you’re…”

“...Ladybug…” his teammate finishes with an exasperated sigh.

While Chat Noir is still stunned, Ladybug regains her composure at a remarkable speed. In a fraction of a second, the anger that had devoured her all day seemed to melt away, erasing the shock of realizing who was hiding behind her teammate’s mask.

“I don’t JUST fight against super-villains,” she exclaims, suddenly raising her arms to the sky in a movement so snappy that she barely misses knocking her partner’s jaw. “I get cats out of trees. I prevent accidents. I… I… I… I do TONS of things that I don’t necessarily have to use my Lucky Charm for! And I’m CLUMSY. Chat, you’re in the best position to know how clumsy I am!”

Ladybug stands up in a swift motion. Under the worried gaze of Chat Noir, she begins pacing across the roof on which they had found refuge. Clearly incapable of stopping her tirade, she continues her ranting with an almost frightening vehemence, gesturing every which way, only taking the time to breathe.

Chat Noir watches her with a certain uneasiness. His Lady is giving off the feeling of a pressure-cooker ready to explode, and he lets her drain the pressure without daring to make the slightest move.

“I’ve already almost given you a concussion by swinging my yo-yo onto your head,” Ladybug continues, backing up her words with a big wave of her hand. “ _Two_ times. Last week, I almost fell from a roof trying to help an old lady whose drying laundry had been blown away by the wind. I spend my LIFE banging into things, of course I have bruises. And naturally, Alya notices them.”

“And you can’t tell her where they come from because you’re Ladybug…” Chat Noir completes automatically, still speaking quietly from the improbable turn of events.

He might have guessed. He might have understood.

He, too, has returned home with inexplicable bumps and scratches, the consequences of giving a heroic helping hand to somebody in distress.

But with his busy schedule, he has much less time to help the citizens of Paris than his teammate. His appearances mostly coincide with the appearance of a super-villain and the use of a Lucky Charm, and the small wounds he’s sustained under other circumstances have always been too rare to be noticed.

“Exactly,” Ladybug agrees with a vigorous nod.

Obviously tired of pacing everywhere across the roof, she moves toward her teammate and lets herself fall heavily to his side. Lost in his mind, Chat Noir follows his train of thought.

“And you couldn’t talk about your boyfriend because…” he begins.

He abruptly goes pale and stops in the middle of his sentence.

Oh.

Oh.

_ OH. _

_ Oh no… _


	5. Chapter 5

Going pale, Chat Noir shoots a terrified look at Ladybug.

“Oh… That’s.... That’s me,” he stammers weakly. “ _I’m_ your boyfriend.”

Dropping his head in his hands, Chat Noir lets out a distressed groan.

“Alya is going to kill me,” he continues in a frantic voice. “I’m telling you, Marinette, Alya is _really_ going to kill me. Then dig up my body, find a way to resuscitate me and kill me again.”

He feels full of a relentless wave of desperation. Under the effect of the panic, the adrenaline surges through his veins, compressing his lungs and dangerously accelerating his pulse.

“I’m screwed,” he insists in despair. “She’s going to kill me. You know Alya better than me, you _know_ what she’s capable of. And I was there when she talked about your boyfriend and what she would do the day she discovered who he is. I swear that you do _NOT_ want to know what she had imagined, my Lady. You really don’t,” he concludes with a shiver of horror.

“Don’t worry, kitty,” she whispers in his ear. “I won’t let her.”

  
  


 

For a few minutes more, Chat Noir imagines out loud the thousand and one tortures that Alya will reserve for him the instant she learns that he’s the one sharing Marinette’s life. In great detail and theatrical lamenting, he describes to his teammate how her best friend will cut his life short and how badly all of Paris would be upset with this terrible loss.

Ladybug listens to him patiently, an amused look dancing on her face. Chat Noir has become a master in the art of exaggerating things, but the fact that he tells of so many manners of his demise proves to her that the situation is much less dramatic than he wants to make her believe.

Sure, her partner is clearly nervous, and sure, Alya’s case warrants that they both think long and hard about the issue.

But when things are serious, _really_ serious, Chat Noir knows how to act with the utmost seriousness. So when he starts to describe how Alya will rent a helicopter to hang him over a lake of molten lava or arranging for him to be trampled by a herd of angry goats, Ladybug knows that she has little to worry about what will be done with him.

As for her, her own anger has long since subsided in light of Chat Noir’s antics. This boy is definitely too good at making her smile for her to stay angry.

Ladybug stares at her teammate affectionately, slowly absorbing the idea that hiding behind the mask of the one she loves is none other than Adrien. If she had known who he was earlier, things would have been quite different. She never would have spent so much time realizing what she felt for him. She never would have been so slow to give him a chance. She never would have had her heart broken when she heard Adrien and Nino talk about…

Ladybug’s smile freezes at the memory of the conversation she had caught between the two boys. She lets out a soft hiccup, as a vivid blush suddenly covers her cheeks.

“W-W-Wait,” she stutters, heart suddenly beating wildly. “When you… When…”

She stops abruptly, trying to find her words in the middle of the tempest of thoughts that is rampaging in her skull.

And the fact that she’s now so emotional that she feels as if her heart is going to explode does not help.

“My Lady?” Chat Noir asks in concern, leaning toward her to plunge his gaze into her own.

“I heard… I heard you talking with Nino…” Ladybug begins again, her face now so red that she feels as if her cheeks are literally radiating heat. “A few months ago. You… You said that… There’s a girl… That you were in love with a girl… It was… me?”

Her teammate’s pupils dilate minutely in surprise and under his mask, the young man blushes in turn. He reaches a trembling hand towards Ladybug, delicately caressing her cheek with the tips of his fingers.

“It was never really a secret,” Chat Noir finally murmurs with a timid smile. “The way I feel about you, I mean,” he continues with an unwavering tenderness. “There’s this whole thing with secret identities that came to complicate everything, but it doesn’t matter. With or without the mask, I… I love you. I love you, Marinette. And I- _Mpfffff_ …”

The words that the hero was about to say are abruptly stifled by tender lips, warm, that suddenly trap his. Not noticing the exclamation of surprise that chokes in Chat Noir’s throat, Ladybug slides her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, and kisses him, again, again, and again.

Instinctively, Chat Noir wraps an arm around the girl’s waist, placing a hand between her shoulder blades. He holds her against his heart with all of his strength, surrendering himself to this embrace that strips him of all reason. Ladybug steals his lips, his heart, his breath, and he happily lets her.

Chat Noir feels overwhelmed by such a wave of euphoria that it makes him dizzy.

He had never clearly confessed his feelings to Ladybug, and her reaction surpasses his wildest hopes and dreams.

He loves her, he loves her, her loves her, and her mere presence makes him feel like he’s being deliciously consumed from the inside out. Closing his eyelids to better savor this moment, he enthusiastically returns her kisses. He gets drunk on the softness of her lips, the smell of her skin, the way he feels her subconsciously smile as she kisses him.

“Adrien… Chat…” Ladybug sighs, parting from him slightly, her eyes as brilliant as if a cloud of stars had settled in their depths. “I love you too. You’re an idiot, but you’re the most adorable idiot there is.”

A smile of unbelievable happiness quickly lights up on Chat Noir’s face. His teammate’s words make another torrent of adrenaline surge through his veins and his heart sing, plunging him into a state of bliss he had never known before. Chat Noir feels so happy, so light that he almost feels like he could fly.

Without losing a second more, he bows his head toward Ladybug to kiss her again. 

“I love you,” he whispers to her lovingly between each kiss. “I love you.’

For another long moment, the two heroes stay lost in a world that belongs only to them. Completely absorbed by each other, they savor this moment of extraordinary happiness, exchanging tender kisses and murmurs full of words of love.

When they finally separate, Chat Noir doesn’t know how much time has passed.

A fraction of a second, a few minutes, hours, it doesn’t matter. This wonderful moment of confessing his feelings to his Lady and hearing her fervent declarations of love seem to be outside of reality to him. Outside of the world, outside of time.

“So, what are we going to do?” he huffs, his breath still labored.

Arms still wrapped around his neck, Ladybug looks up to him. She takes a deep breath as her lips, made rosy by their kisses, curve into a mischievous smile.

“I’m going to break up with you,” she replies.

For Chat Noir, the shock is an unheard-of assault. White as a sheet, he stares at his Lady without succeeding to articulate a single word.

Impossible.

He must have heard wrong.

Sure, Marinette has had some bad days lately. Sure, he had participated in Alya’s absurd plan to try to get her to listen to reason - and he sorely regrets it now. But to leave him seems to be quite an extreme measure, especially after these moments of pure joy that they have just shared.

“B-break up?” he croaks, throat suddenly so dry as if he had swallowed a handful of sand. “You want to… Break up?”

“Yes,” Ladybug responds decisively, and Chat Noir feels his heart drop in his chest.

This is a nightmare.

An unbelievable and horrible nightmare, from which he would certainly wake up. From which he _has_ to wake up. He can’t lose his Lady. Not like this. Not over something as stupid as…

“To be precise,” the girl picks up again, interrupting her partner’s frantic thoughts. “ _Marinette_ is going to break up with her mysterious boyfriend. I’m going to tell Alya that tomorrow morning. That way, I think the whole school will be up to speed by noon at the latest.”

And suddenly, Chat Noir breathes again.

The abject terror that had paralyzed him a moment earlier is replaced by a hope so wonderful, so luminous, that the young man can’t hold back the laughter of relief that escapes his lips. Eyes sparkling with joy, he nods his head automatically.

He understands.

He finally understands.

“And as for you, you can tell whoever wants to listen that this whole thing has opened your eyes and made you realize your feelings for me,” Ladybug continues with a laugh in her eyes. “Then, after two weeks,” she concludes, waving two fingers in front of her partner, “I’m counting on you to ask me to go out with you.”

A machiavellian smile takes shape on Chat Noir’s lips as Ladybug continues her explanation. When the girl finally finishes, the famous hero of Paris looks as pleased as the cat that got the cream.

“Now this is a plan that suits me perfectly,” he approves with a chipper laugh, before leaning towards Ladybug to kiss her once again.

  
  


 

Sitting next to Marinette, Alya drums her fingers on her desk with a growing frustration.

At this time of day, she should be reviewing for her next history test. But despite her best efforts, the young blogger struggles to focus on her classes. As if attracted by a magnet, her gaze can’t stop landing on her friend’s arm. And more precisely, the ugly purplish bruise spreading out just above her elbow.

A mysterious injury, once again.

Eyes riveted on the bruise that seems to taunt her, Alya furrows her brows. Unable to fight them back, a cloud of the most unpleasant feelings slowly creep over her. Worry. Pain. Shame. And most of all, a dull guilt that crushes her chest and leaves a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.

Alya doesn’t need to reflect on what is tormenting her. Last week, Marinette announced to her that she had broken up with the boyfriend that she refused to talk about, and yet, new bruises continue to dot her skin.

Again, and again.

After these altercations that had nearly undermined their friendship, the young blogger now refuses to doubt any of her friend’s words. Marinette told her that she had left the one she was dating, and Alya believes her without reserve.

And this hematoma that spreads before her eyes cruelly reminds her that she should have believed her in so many other things.

Alya feels a new burst of shame heating her cheeks as she remembers how she treated her classmate. Marinette is her best friend, and yet Alya refused to trust her when she insisted that everything was fine. She should have been the first to believe and support her, and she did the exact opposite.

Worse still, because of her thoughtless actions, Marinette had felt betrayed. Pushed to the edge. Humiliated.

Alya had always been proud of her deduction skills but she knows now that they clearly aren’t infallible. This whole thing was a hard lesson for her, one that had almost costed Marinette’s friendship.

An unpleasant chill runs up Alya’s spine as she remembers the day her friend let out her anger in front of their whole class. This episode leaves a burning souvenir in her memory, and the terror she felt at the idea of Marinette never wanting to speak to her again is engraved in her brain as if branded with a red-hot iron.

For a moment, she had thought she lost her.

But luckily for her, Marinette is an extraordinary person. A girl with boundless generosity, always ready to offer a second chance to her peers. There had been moments of shame, of acidic words, of long and painful explanations, but to Alya’s great relief, their friendship was stronger. After a day or two of uneasiness and shy conversation, quickly returned to normal.

And that’s more than Alya could have ever wished for.

  
  
  


 

Perhaps feeling her friend’s gaze weighing on her, Marinette quickly turns her head. She raises her arm slightly, offering Alya a better view of the bruise that stretches across her skin.

“I told you,” she starts innocently. “I’m clumsy.”

Despite the shame that she couldn’t stop herself from feeling again, Alya also couldn’t stop her smile.

“Which means, the guy you were going out with…” she proceeds shyly.

“Never hit me,” Marinette completes. “He really was a great guy. Sweet, thoughtful… Well, he had his faults too,” she continues in a mischievous tone. “You see, for example, he’s the type that always thinks he’s _so_  funny.”

“I can imagine,” Alya chuckles, affectionately resting a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

Although her attention is focused on Marinette, Alya doesn’t fail to notice the brief glance that Adrien shoots at her friend. A cheerful light sparkles in the young man’s eyes, quickly replaced by a perfectly stoic expression as Adrien dives back into his studying, acting as if nothing had happened.

Alya feels her smile widen. She has always been extremely proud of her sense of observation and it doesn’t deceive her here, she’s sure of it. Her friend probably hadn’t noticed, but jealousy and worry have worked wonders for Adrien. Those glances he gives Marinette a bit too frequently, those affectionate smiles that light up him face when he looks at her and he thinks nobody sees, the way he talks about her with Nino…

Yes, this time, Alya is right. As painful as this unpleasant affair had been, she clearly had to be credited for opening Adrien’s eyes to her best friend.

“Looks like I owe you an apology…” Alya picks up, bringing her attention back to Marinette. “That is, I owe you _both_ , you and your ex. To you for not believing you, and to him for unjustly accusing him. I’m sorry, Marinette. And I’ve never been so happy to have been wrong!”

“It’s okay,” Marinette assures her with a smile. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Thank you,” the young blogger replies with sincere gratitude.

Then, without a second more, Alya leans toward her friend.

“I imagine that you must be sad to have left him, but I’m sure that you’re going to feel better quickly,” she whispers to her in a conspiratory voice, as she tosses an insistent glance toward Adrien.

Immediately, Alya sees Marinette’s cheeks tint a delicate pink.

The young blogger sits back up, a satisfied smile on her lips.

All is not lost.

  
  


 

Hardly a week later, Marinette is peacefully chatting with Rose, Alya, and Juleka, when an intensely surprised expression paints itself on the faces of her friends. The girl turns around, curious to see what has astonished them.

Quickly, she feels her cheeks flush and the excitement pump torrents of adrenaline into her veins.

Adrien is standing in the middle of the hallway, a bouquet of red roses in his hand.

“Marinette!” he calls out to her happily. “Can I talk to you?”

Trying to ignore the stunned murmurs of the other students and the way her heart drums gleefully in her ribs, Marinette drifts from her friends to meet Adrien.

“Roses, kitty?” she whispers, smiling at him tenderly. “Seriously? Isn’t it a bit much?”

“Nothing is too much for you, my Lady,” he replies, bowing theatrically. “And at least, this way, nobody has any doubt about what’s happening,” he clarifies with a sly wink.

He pauses for a moment, taking the time to conspicuously clear his throat and run a hand through his hair. Marinette watches him do so, amused. Her partner may be acting out his usual bravado, but she doesn’t fail to notice the light pink that now dresses her cheeks.

“Now, I’d like to know…” Adrien continues with a big smile, while holding the bouquet out to her. “Would you agree to go out with me? Again?”

“Don’t you know that you really don’t have to ask?” Marinette replies as she takes the flowers, before bowing her head to them to breathe in their sweet perfume.

“Don’t you know that I would love to hear your answer?” Adrien counters with a little laugh.

A smile shining on her lips, Marinette reacher her free hand towards the young man and slips her arm around his neck to draw him close to her. Then, rising up onto her toes, she kisses him tenderly.

“Yes, Adrien,” she responds in a breath. “A thousand times yes.”

 

***** THE END *****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note :  
> This is the end of this little story ! I hope you liked it, it was a pleasure to write the original version of this fic :) .  
> And again, a thousand thanks to XanLee for this amazing translation !


End file.
